


Recounting

by QueSeraAwesome



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Identity Issues, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:05:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2241744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueSeraAwesome/pseuds/QueSeraAwesome
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are things you tell yourself, to remind yourself who you are. To help you separate reality from the memories in your head, the ones that aren't yours. </p><p>"My name is Agent Washington. My given name was David. No one calls me that anymore. I’m a Recovery Agent for Project Freelancer. And I know what they did to us."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Recounting

"I am awake," Wash says to the ceiling of his recovery room.

There’s only the night nurse around, and she’s gone getting coffee. He’s already checked, while they do have a camera on him “for his own protection, after last time” It doesn’t have audio.

"I have five fingers on my right hand, and five fingers on my left hand. I am awake. My name is Agent Washington. Wash. My given name was David. No one calls me that anymore. I’m not dreaming."

He splays his fingers in front of him, just to be sure. Five and five. He takes a deep breath, props his head up on his hand, his elbow blocking the camera’s view of his mouth. They won’t be able to read his lips.

"I am an agent for Project Freelancer. I was given an AI named the Epsilon unit. He— It—-It’s gone now. Everybody’s gone now. Tex. York. North, South. AWOL. Florida is dead. Carolina is…"

He pauses, the freshness of the wound still tender.

"Maine killed Carolina," he restarts. "Stole her AI, tossed her off a cliff. He’s gone too."

He leans his head back, deep into his pillow, closes his eyes. Some things hurt a little less if you close your eyes. Or at least you can pretend.

"I know everything," he whispers. "Epsilon showed me everything. That’s why I’m here. I know what they did."

*

"My name is…my name is L—" Wash spasm’s so bad he nearly chokes on his own spit. "My name was David. My name is Wash. Agent Washington. Damnnit.”

*

"My name is Agent Washington," Wash says. "My given name was David. I’m at a PFL Long Term Care facility. And I...I don’t think any of my friends are coming back for me."

*

Wash wakes up screaming, the memory of pain, of grief, lighting up his nerves and ripping him from sleep. He doesn’t remember what he was dreaming. If he was dreaming.

With effort, he closes his mouth, some small measure of relief when top lip touches bottom, when his throat stops straining. A return to self control.

He takes a few breaths, slowly. In. Out. In. Out.

When he feels ready, he sits up, looks around the room.

"My name is—" Alpha “— Agent Washington. My given name was David. I am a Recovery Agent for Project Freelancer. I know everything. I know whose fault this all is.”

*

"My name is Agent Washington. My given name was David. My first kiss was with a girl named…a girl named…Tia. She had a cute smile. She played flute. I lost my virginity with a boy named Jensen when I was seventeen."

"I never dated anyone named Allison."

*

"My name is Agent Washington," Wash whispers.

He’s been moved to a new ward, a reward for his continuing recovery. He hasn’t had time to check for bugs, but tonight he needs this, he has to, and just repeating it mentally isn’t going to cut it. He still doesn’t trust the voice in his head, even if it sounds like his own.

He knows better than that, by now. Some mornings he wakes up reaches for his glasses on the bedside table by rote. He doesn’t wear glasses, never has.

"My given name was David. I am an Agent for Project Freelancer. I’ve been here six months. I know what they did to me. I know what they did to everyone."

*

"My name is Agent Washington," Wash tells the stars. "My given name was David. No one calls me that anymore. I’m a Recovery Agent for Project Freelancer. I’ve been tracking this thing they’re calling the Meta. I know who he really is. I know whose fault this all is."

*

"My name is Agent Washington," Wash chokes out into the dirt. His beacon is going off. Someone will come for him. From the Project. Eventually. He may even still be alive, when they do.

The Meta left, probably an hour ago. His mission clock says it’s been three hours since South shot him, who knows how long he’s been awake. It feels like longer.

"David," Wash says, breathing raggedly. Breathing. Keep breathing. "Recovery Agent. South— Agent South Dakota."

He shouldn’t be moving. He might still live if he keeps still, but he worms his elbows under his ribs, levers his helmet off. The taste of dust is a welcome friction against the taste of iron in his throat. He swallows. If he can still taste, he’s still alive.

"She shot me," he says. "She shot me in the back. Got North killed. York’s dead too. Carolina. And she shot me."

He tries to get a better look at the green glow coming from his back. The Meta had left him the healing unit. Taken the bubbleshield. He doesn’t know what to think about that.

"I saved her and she shot me."

Anger bubbles up in him, so thick he can barely see.

"Fuck it," he says. "I don’t need any help. I don’t need any help with his. I’ll do it myself, take them all down myself. Fuck.”

He hopes the moisture sliding down his face is sweat. He probably won’t survive the effort of crying right now.

*

"My name is Agent Washington," Wash says in his hospital room, back at Recovery. Again.. "My given name is David. And somehow, I’m still alive."

*  
”My name is Agent Washington,” Wash whispers, looking back over his shoulder. The Blues seem to still be asleep. “My given name was David, but no one calls me that anymore. There isn’t anyone who would.”

He breathes in, slowly, until he feels like his lungs could burst from all the trapped air, let’s it out in a gust.

"I shot South today," he says. "I should probably feel worse about that. They’re all dead. All of them. All except me."

"I probably should be more grateful for that."

*

"My name is Agent Washington," Wash says. "My given name is David. And this is all going to be over soon. I found the Alpha. Surprise, he’s kinda of a dick. And I’ve never met a group of more incompetent soldiers in my entire life. And who even plays polka music into battle? That’s just—Anyway."

"I know where Epsilon is. I know whose fault this all is. And I’m going to take it all down."

*

The body of the Meta is still twitching faintly. Wash hasn’t gotten up to see if he’s alive yet. He’s not sure he wants to know.

Hours later, the UNSC MPs arrive.

"Identify yourself," one of them demands, cocking a rifle at him. Wash smiles underneath his helmet.

"My name is Agent Washington."

**Author's Note:**

> QueSeraAwesome.tumblr.com


End file.
